


Heavy

by Soul_Shuffler



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1970, Depression, Late ‘60s, Let it be sessions, Multi, References to Depression, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul_Shuffler/pseuds/Soul_Shuffler
Summary: Paul is depressed; with his band mates - his family - slowly breaking apart, he’s finding it harder and harder to pull himself out of bed and finish the tension filled Let It Be Sessions.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney, Paul McCartney & George Harrison, Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney/Linda Eastman
Comments: 45
Kudos: 99





	1. I’m Only Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic and I really hope it’s ok. I just kind of rambled and had no idea where I was going with it.

Paul was lying on the bed face down to stop the light from entering into his vision. He’d forgotten to close the curtains last night which he was hating himself now for. The blanket nearly covered his whole body expect for his head, where his now longer hair poked out on top. He could hear Martha sleeping next to the bed, as she let out little puffs of breath next to his hand, which was dangling down near her head. 

He assumed he’d drunk a lot last night because it was all a blur really. He’d been doing that a lot recently. He used to go out to clubs to drink, but now he’d met Linda it wasn’t as desirable as before. He didn’t want to speak to people about how the band was going, how he was doing, how he and John were doing. Everyone wanted a peace of him and he was fed up. His routine now was wake up, studio, come home, get drunk out of his head. There was a little voice at the back of his head that kept repeating that maybe this wasn’t good for his mental health - he shouldn’t be drinking alone at home just to stop thinking and feeling anything bad. But everything was so overwhelming now.

John was fully immersed in yoko, and nearly always ignored him except for his biting comments about the songs he’d written. George was mentally far away from everyone. He’d made it clear when he’d brought in Eric Clapton to do his song that he was fed up of being ignored. And Ringo was slowing looking more and more depressed as fights over small, stupid things became the make or break of the Beatles. 

And Paul didn’t blame him. Not anymore, now that John and George kept loudly commenting on Paul and his tendencies. It was starting to get to him. They’d made Paul see that maybe it was partly his fault that the band, his family, was breaking, and nothing he did was going to bring them together. He decided that he was making it worse: trying to bring together 4 people, half of which don’t even want to be there, was creating tension and resentment between them. 

Paul had lost all motivation, and was feeling drained physically and mentally. There was no point going to the studio anymore. There was no joy in creating music with friends who decidedly hated him now. He’d started drinking heavily to numb the pain in his mind. And all his darker thoughts had made him paranoid. Every time someone started talking in the studio he immediately thought they were talking about him. On how he was looking more and more homeless now, with his lack of interest in how long his beard was. Or how he was becoming more and more controlling over the music, like him wanting George to play his guitar exactly to his liking. He could see it was making George annoyed every time Paul would never even consider his advice because he already had the vision for the song in his head. But even though he could see it was irritating him he couldn’t stop himself because of his control issues, and it was slowly but surely damaging his and George’s relationship. 

So with no reason to get up anymore, and his mind feeling heavy and dark, Paul couldn’t get out of bed. He’d tried to physically move his body but he just couldn’t, and so he was lying there in a sleepy dose, full of resentment towards himself because of his lack of ability to just move. Just get up and do something. He knew he had to get up eventually for Martha’s sake. She needed food and a good run round. But right now nothing was working. So he stayed there. 

His sleepy dose was interrupted by the phone ringing next to his bed a few times, but it was like it was far away. It didn’t penetrate his thoughts and so he ignored it subconsciously out of self preservation. He didn’t want to know about any of his responsibilities. He didn’t want to think. 

He was finally fading away into blissful nothingness when he heard something downstairs. A key in the lock of his house’s front door. He was suddenly completely alert in his mind and yet still his body wouldn’t get up. As long as the intruder had a key, that meant Paul had trusted them enough to have it, and so they were safe. Hopefully. He still listened out for any movement once he’d heard the door open, and by then Martha had raised from her slumber to go have a look at who was entering. There was no warning bark from Martha downstairs and so Paul assumed it was probably Linda. 

With that reassuring thought in mind Paul went back to his dosing with the comforting sounds of probably Linda sorting out things downstairs. He couldn’t remember if his house was a mess or not, but hopefully it wasn’t too bad. Martha had come back upstairs and this time settled next to him on the bed, her wet but comforting nose pressed against his neck. 

After about 15 minutes he heard the sounds of footsteps slowly walking up the stairs and then his door was open. There, standing in the frame was his Lovely Linda, with a tray of something that Paul faintly thought smelled good. Linda Eastman was an angel sent to him from some holy entity. That’s what Paul had to believe. She was just too good to him. She had recognised that Paul was slowly falling apart piece by piece every time he came back from the studio and was always there to make him feel some sense of better. She was funny and beautiful and just a constant in his life that kept him tethered to this world. And she was once again here to try and help him, this broken version of Paul McCartney. 

“Hey love, I brought some breakfast up just in case you hadn’t had some already. Just eat this first and we’ll talk in a minute, yeah?” She said. 

Paul realised then that the tray she’d been carrying indeed had breakfast on it. His stomach took that moment to loudly announce its agreement that yes, he was extremely hungry. He slowly started to move so he was in a sitting position, and it was then that he noticed he had a really bad headache. Probably from the hangover. His whole head ached as he lifted it up enough to rest against the headboard and his eyes involuntarily closed as he felt nauseous and sick rise up his throat. His eyes snapped open then and he found that Linda had moved the bucket that was normally on the floor next to the bed up so it was under his chin. He vomited up the drinking from last night and then sat back, peering with his eyes half closed up at his blonde partner. She smiled empathetically at him and he groaned in response.

He sat there for a bit, while she went to put the bucket in the bathroom, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Once she had returned and sat on the bed next to him with the tray on her lap, he finally turned to her. 

“I’m sorry,” Paul whispered while taking her hand in his. She just shook her head. Paul had never felt more grateful for her.

He ate slowly and silently. She’d made him toast with butter and jam and some orange juice, and although it wasn’t much, it was all he could keep down at the moment. He was thankful that Linda knew of his drinking tendencies and that he would have been fragile this morning. 

He finished with the clink of the glass hitting the tray, after he made sure the drink would soothe his hoarse throat. He moved it off the bed onto the floor and instinctively said no to Martha who never missed an opportunity to lick his plates dry. He’d procrastinated enough now and knew that Linda was going to converse with him. She started running her hands through Paul’s hair before she spoke and his eyes closed involuntarily 

“Paul, they had to phone me at work this morning asking where you were. Why aren’t you at the studio?” She said.

“I dunno Lin, I just couldn’t get out of bed this morning. What time is it?” he said. 

“It’s 11:30. Look, I know you were drinking a lot last night, and I wish I could have come over, but I’ve got Heather and-“

“I know, I don’t want her seeing me like that either, yeah? You made the right choice. I’ll get up in a minute. Who called you at the studio?”

“It was Ringo. He sounded really worried, Paulie. You weren’t answering the phone and you know you’re never late.” Her hands kept brushing through his hair, making him relax deeper into the bed, which was the opposite of what she wanted. So she finally stopped and hit him lightly on the arm. 

“Alright, alright I’m going,” Paul smiled at her. He slowly rose from the bed, feeling Linda’s stare tracking his every move. 

“Hey, you are alright, aren’t you? I know you’re hungover, but you aren’t sick, right?” She asked worriedly. Paul made a mental check of himself. His head was still pounding, his back ached for some reason, he was decidedly overtired and the nausea he had felt while he had been eating was still hovering in his stomach and the back of his throat ominously. But despite that, he knew he had to go into the studio. The Let It Be Sessions were nearly over anyway, and Paul told himself his slight blip this morning was just being over dramatic. He could make it another day, it wasn’t that bad over there. 

While he was getting dressed, Linda said she’d take Martha out for a quick walk as she wasn’t meant to be photographing anyone till this afternoon. Paul didn’t feel as guilty knowing Linda wasn’t sacrificing anything important to be here with him, and said goodbye with a quick kiss to Linda and a pat to Martha’s head. 

He got in a taxi to get to Twickenham Studio, knowing that in his state he’d probably crash his car. He became hyper aware of his body and how he was feeling like he was underwater on the way to the studio, paying no mind to the driver. Once they did get there he didn’t know how much money he gave the guy, probably too much, and stumbled out of the car. 

The building loomed ahead of him. He pulled his jacket closer around his body and just put one step in front of the other until he got to the doorway. It wasn’t until then that he saw John standing outside with a cigarette, surprisingly with no Yoko next to him. He was peering at him with a blank face and not for the first time since Yoko’s appearance in John’s life, Paul had no idea what he was thinking. 

He walked cautiously over to John and leaned his weight heavily on the building next to him, waiting for the inevitable questions, Where the fuck have you been then? Why the fuck are you late?. The anxiety he’d been trying to squash down flared back up, and mixed with his already nauseous state he thought he really was going to vomit on Johns shoes. Then he’d really hate him. He was so in his head, trying to keep the sick at bay that he nearly didn’t hear John. 

“Come ahead then.” He said. He was still peering at Paul with his blank face except, maybe Paul thought he saw some hint of worry? ‘Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,’ he admonished himself, ‘you probably look drunk outta your head still, you idiot.’ 

But John just turned, not looking back, as if he expected Paul to be trailing after him dumbly. It irritated some part of Paul that that was exactly what he was going to do. Because what else could he do?

So Paul walked in after John, out of the cold air, and into an even colder studio.


	2. I’m so Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s just Another Day at the studio

Twickenham studios was a giant cold room that had put Paul off the minute he’d stepped into it. It was still January, and so he hadn’t expected it to be boiling, but a little bit of heating wouldn’t have hurt. He was hurting now. The biting cold from outside had seeped through his thick jacket and pinpricked at his skin until he was shaking with it.

Since he’d overslept that one time, he’d been so embarrassed by it that he’d tried to either stop the drinking, or start early on to make sure he woke up at a decent time the next morning. He’d started bringing Martha along with him as well, to keep away the chill. She never barked which was good for the film and she would never bite anyone unless they were aggressive so everyone loved her being in the studio. She sat beside Paul, normally snoozing, and she was a great hot water bottle.

John would now normally be waiting outside the studio for Paul. He thought it was a bit strange that he wasn’t with Yoko, keeping warmer inside, but he never questioned it. They always met outside the studio and in silence they’d walk in together.

On this particular day, he’d regressed again. He’d been so proud of himself for getting up at a good time and going to the studio. But last night he must have drunk too much and now he was nearly an hour late. It had only been Martha’s soft whining which had caused him to get up, nothing else had seemed to have been able to do it this morning. He felt sick and tired and partly hungover again which was never a good mix. He just wanted to go back to bed.

John met him outside the studio, of course. He peered at him, but Paul just couldn’t find the energy to cover up his sickness. They finally trailed in, after he guessed John deemed him alive.

He kept his head down, looking at his feet, loyal Martha next to him as always, as John led him into the massive room where the band had been practising the last few weeks. He was quite embarrassed at his repeated lateness and was sure everyone was going to give him a hard time about it again.

He suddenly bumped into John from behind as he was so deep in his anxiety-ridden thoughts that he hadn’t noticed he’d stopped. John quickly steadied him as he slumped to the side and eyed him wearily. It stressed Paul out that he was looking at him differently - he didn’t want anyone thinking he was not up to it today, because then they’d all complain that they’d been hanging around for him for nothing. He couldn’t take the guilt at the moment. It would surely topple him over for good. 

The tension filled silence lasted a few seconds as everyone was looking at Paul. His cheeks heated up as he realised they were waiting for him to explain himself and he shuffled from foot to foot. 

“Sorry guys. I just overslept. I’ll make it up to you though, yeah? Let’s play something.” He tried to keep his sentences short as felt the nausea come back with a vengeance. He inconspicuously put his hand on his stomach willing in his mind for it to behave.

They all considered him for a minute, before apparently the room of people agreed they’d let him off. 

“S’alright, Paul. Everyone has an off day,” Mal spoke up. Paul thought he’d probably do anything for his kind-hearted friend in that moment. He knew he’d had many off days during the sessions but Mal always overlooked Paul’s tardiness.

“Yes, he’s right. We’ll just have to work twice the speed to get everything filmed for today, alright?” said Michael. Lindsay-Hogg was probably the best director for their film because he was good fun but also precise and he got the work done, which Paul liked. Probably another factor concerning his control issues and how he liked everything to be done perfectly, but he wasn’t going to bother thinking about his faults now. He’d already done enough of it today and it was only noon. 

After that everyone was doing something. Yoko had attached herself back on to John and they were sitting in the corner together, smoking and talking quietly. George was helping the others bring some of the speakers and instruments in, and Paul decided he’d try and not communicate with him. He felt like George was one bad comment away from snapping. Him being late once again had probably only added to his lacking patience for the rest of them. 

His gaze finally landed on Ringo up on the drums. He’d once told Paul that he liked being on the drums because he was high up and could see everything that was going on. It looked like that was what he was doing now as he peered at everyone from under heavy eye bags. Paul considered Ringo to be his safest bet for minimal conversation, which was what he was looking for right now. Longer sentences would probably lead to him throwing up everywhere. 

He slowly walked over, trying to stay out of everyone’s way, and made to sit down on a stool next to the drums. He found the case for his bass, got it out and tried tuning it. But it just made his headache pound harder. He huffed and put it down on his lap.

“Ya’know I tried phoning you again this morning and you didn’t pick up. Had to phone Linda. She’s starting to really worry about you Paul. The rest of the band are, even if they don’t show it,” Ringo’s voice startled him. He quickly swung round so he was facing him.

“I know, mate. I am sorry, ya’know. I didn’t mean to ignore ya calls. I just overslept,” he said. 

They both looked at each other for a short while. It looked like Ringo was trying to figure him out - Paul knew he wasn’t normally so unorganised. It was a rarity that was becoming common because of his drinking. 

“You are alright aren’t you? I know you’ve been a bit down with the sessions and that but you don’t normally look so...” Ringo trailed off. 

“Thanks for the self-confidence boost, mate. I’m fine, alright? Just need to get through today, yeah?” And the next and the next...

“I know, but I’m just worried. I know you’ve been drinking a lot lately and-“

“Alright fellas! Let’s get started; everyone set up their instruments and we’ll set up the audio and the cameras.”

Paul was glad that conversation was over. He felt if he started talking about his problems that the knot stuck in his throat, choking him slowly, would come forward in big ugly sobs.

John and George came over then, with John sitting opposite the drums with Yoko and George sat under Ringo. He could feel Ringo’s stare still looking him over but he didn’t dare return it. The others got their instruments out and Paul tried tuning his again. It went better than before, which he counted as a win, and so he waited for whoever to pipe up with the song they wanted to do. 

After a few seconds, John requested Don’t Let Me Down, and they started. Paul actually liked that song, but the loud guitars and drumming next to him was just making him feel worse. His head pounded. His stomach churned. He felt empty. Like he wasn’t really there. It was all kind of far away, his playing had become second nature. It had started happening a lot in the sessions. He’d kind of just given up trying to add suggestions because he didn’t see the point anymore. He zoned out until it was the end. 

“That’s alright. I just can’t hear you,” said John to George. 

“I think it’s awful,” George said. Paul and Ringo looked over warily. 

“Well, have you got anything? To supplant it?” John fired back. 

“Well, I just think that, you know, for a start it’d be better to sing-“ he started playing something else “instead of what we were just doing.”

“Let’s just sing the corny one,” Paul said. He felt so ill he didn’t think he could even try to think and contribute to make it different. John agreed next to him. 

“Yeah, do the corny one.” 

John had started doing that a lot lately. Ganging up on George with Paul. It made him feel even more sick to see George draw back from the conversation slightly. 

“Just get this bit, you know. We can make it better as it goes on,” Paul said. He wanted to escape now. 

“Keeps going through permutations though.” George argued. 

“Yeah I know, but let’s sort of move on now.” That shut George up. God, he was being so bitchy but he didn’t mean to. He just had to get out. 

Everyone sort of petered off then, and Paul half ran to get outside. As soon as he’d opened the door and swung round the corner he threw up next to the wall. It wouldn’t stop. Even when nothing was coming out he just kept gagging. Martha started whining.

He finally finished after what felt like an eternity and looked down. He noticed that some of it contained his breakfast from this morning. Lovely. He decided he wouldn’t eat for the rest of the day. There was no way he was doing that again. At least it was all out. 

He leaned against the wall for a bit, smoking a cigarette lazily and patting Marthas head until he heard the door opening loudly. He quickly stubbed it out on the ground with his shoe and turned the corner. He didn’t want anyone seeing his insides on the ground. 

It turned out it was George coming out for a smoke. As soon as he laid eyes on Paul he stuttered in his walking. It made Paul feel overly guilty then. He realised what he said in there had effectively humiliated his friend. Completely ignoring his ideas again. He just couldn’t stop himself and it was eating him away inside. 

It looked like George was going to turn to get away from him but Paul quickly grabbed his arm. 

“George. Listen. I’m sorry, I really am. We’ll play around with your version of the song, yeah? It actually sounded really good. I just- I had to get out.”

George looked startled. He probably wasn’t expecting such a profound apology but Paul just couldn’t carry this guilt anymore. His mind was already heavy enough with other negative feelings. 

“And we’ll do the same for any of your other songs. I’ll make sure of it. I’m just a bit of a control freak. You know that,” Paul had to admit to himself that he was sounding hysterical now. 

“Alright, alright. I don’t really believe you mate, but I guess we’ll see later on if you mean it. You’ve been doing this for months now, and you’ve only just come to the conclusion that it may be fucking me up? Bit sad, really luv.” He sounded so done. So over it. It made Paul’s heart hurt. 

“Ya know I never meant to take you for granted, right? I really am sorry.” He was so pathetic. He felt close to tears. All his emotions were overwhelming him. 

“It’s fine, McCartney. Alright? Stop crying. Please. You can make it up to me. Macca, stop crying mate.” He was starting to sound a bit concerned and Paul didn’t blame him. He was so overcome with gratitude that George’d easily forgiven him for something that had been making him feel down for months that Paul suddenly rushed forward and hugged him. Or crushed might have been a better word. 

“Oh, wow! Ok, hugs. Touching is good, mate. Let it out,” he awkwardly patted him on the back, until he finally got that Paul wasn’t letting go anytime soon and wrapped his arms around him, squishing him just as hard. Martha butted into their legs, trying to get in on the hug too and George chuckled slightly.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Paul realised he was blubbering tears and snot all over his top and stepped back. 

“Sorry Georgie,” he muttered quietly. 

“S’alright. We all need a hug sometime. That did me some good too. We get you’re a bit of a control freak, okay?,” Paul chuckled wetly at that and he smiled. “Just, try and tone it down and we’re good, ok?” 

Paul nodded quickly and they both stood there awkwardly for a second. 

“Hey Paul, you’ve got something near your mouth...” he trailed off as he tried to get closer. He realised it was probably some sick from before and quickly wiped it away. 

“You lovebirds done making out? Or can we go back in the studio?” John asked. 

They both startled and quickly whipped round to face him. He looked amused but also kind of concerned. Paul had no idea how long he’d been standing there and how much he’d heard of their conversation. Hopefully enough that he too would cut George some slack. 

“Yeah, yeah. We’re coming,” George walked quickly past John back into the studio. 

Paul and John were left staring at each other. It got slowly more uncomfortable. John was peering at him again and it made Paul self conscious as he was being scrutinised closely. He reminded himself that John didn’t have his glasses on and probably could only make out a fuzzy blob where he was meant to be and chuckled wryly. John smiled back and they ended up standing in the freezing cold, smiling stupidly at each other until Paul was wracked with shivers again. He quickly walked over to John, Martha at his heels, expecting him to move so they could warm up somehow inside. But he just stood there, in the way. 

“Paulie, you don’t look good, ya know? Is it Harrison making you grow grey hairs?”

“What? No. I’m fine, alright? Everyone keeps asking me that, I swear,” he grumbled half-heartedly. To be honest, he was quite pleased that the people who he had thought didn’t care were showing an interest in his well being. Maybe the band wasn’t breaking up as he’d thought? Maybe him apologising to Georgie had caused a domino effect that meant the Beatles would stop hating each other altogether. Maybe he could keep his family. 

His optimistic thoughts were cut off when John replied. 

“Alright, alright! Just think you look like shit, mate. You and Ringo should start sleeping more, ya know? You’ve both got massive bags under ya eyes,” he traced his finger gently under Paul’s eyes and Paul’s breath caught. 

John hadn’t been this close in a long time. He was so obsessed with Yoko and Yoko with him that it was hard for him to be alone with John. The touch lasted only a second but was enough for Paul to feel tingles all over the skin there. 

His thoughts flashed to Ringo then. He’d noticed that too. Maybe Ringo wasn’t feeling as well as they thought. Paul gave himself a reminder to have a proper chat with him about it. He sighed inwardly. It was always hard to get northern blokes to open up about themselves and their emotions. The irony was not lost on him. 

“These are designer bags, Johnny. You’re just jealous,” he replied smoothly. 

John laughed loudly, leaning in to him and Paul felt hope burn bright inside himself. 

They both turned round and once again they headed back into the cold studios, Martha trotting alongside. But this time, Paul felt lighter than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you all think? Criticism is welcome as I want to improve XxX


	3. Let the Long and Winding Road Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly longer chapter; Enjoy! I don’t know when I’m going to update next because I have exams coming up but hopefully soon! This was just a way for me to procrastinate and ignore my revision. :)

It had been a few days since Paul’s, suffice to say, Bad Day, as he had dubbed it. He felt like he’d just crashed. The overwhelmingly bad thoughts had piled up and he’d just needed to let them out healthily - by crying into his friends shoulder. Paul winced internally.

Nothing had changed like he’d hoped since his little breakdown: there were still so many arguments, quite a few between John and George, and Paul got involved most of the time to try and smooth things out, which never seemed to work. He just ended up arguing too. 

Rings would sit up on his drums and just watch. It unnerved Paul - it was like his friend had given up.

Thankfully, Linda had decided enough was enough. She could see what it was doing to Paul and had easily persuaded him to let her come along to the sessions.

At first John was opposed to it. But fortunately for Paul he saw the hypocrisy that was his argument and decided against trying anything. Paul didn’t think he had the energy for another fight. He was slowly and surely melting into a puddle of nothingness. 

Linda had had the idea that maybe all of them should just work together as a four again. Not a 5. Not with Yoko. But it was never brought to fruition, really. Yoko’s presence in the sessions was loud and immovable. She’d taken to bringing a bed in at some point, painted something that Paul could not make heads or tails of - and he’d seen the weird art scene - and she’d moaned Johns name for what had felt like an eternity to the ears of everyone in the studio including Paul. 

John and Yoko were a frightening force.

Even Michael, their *director*, had come half-pleading to Paul, asking if he could just demand John to stop bringing her in, seeing as he and John were the closest - she’d been in all the band meetings about the film, and he’d said anytime they’d tried to edit the film they could always hear her voice in the background. Paul agreed that she might be around too much, but it wasn’t like he could say anything. It wasn’t his place to say anything. They were in love and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. And you had to take into account that no one could tell John not to do something. If anything, it made him want to do whatever it was more. Paul tried to get this across to Michael.

“There’s again, like always, only two answers. One is to fight it, and fight her, and try and get the Beatles back to four people without Yoko, like Linda said, and sort of ask her to sit down at the board meetings. The other thing is just to realise she’s there. And he’s not going to split with her just for our sake,” he said. He tried to be persuasive but Lindsay wasn’t having it. 

“But funny enough the other day when we were talking he said he really did not want NOT to be a Beatle. He said he really looked forward not - in other words, ya know, he didn’t want that screwed up,” Michael replied.

Paul didn’t know what to say. He had thought John was adamant on leaving the group. He didn’t realise there might be some part of him that would want to stay. Paul understood that it was probably just because John didn’t want to change anything; he was comfortable in coming to the studio every day, it was routine, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave. He’d hinted a few times that he was leaving soon. Yet it still gave Paul some hope that the band wasn’t over yet.

“Paul, just talk to him about her, please? They’re driving me insane,” Michael insisted.

“See, but their point is that they’re trying to be as near together as they can though.”

“For their own “truth” and everything,” Michael mocked quietly.

“Yeah. So that, like if she sits here, it’s just slightly less good than if she’s sitting there, very near to him. And if she’s touching him then that’s even better,” Paul reasoned. “If that’s how you see it, then you can see that it would be a drag for people to start saying, ‘come to the meeting without her’ cause then it starts separating you again from her”

“I’m all for that. I mean, if that’s what they want to do. It’s just that if it screws everything up for everybody else, then they’ve got to think about it” Michael said.

“Yeah, yeah I get that. They don’t wanna be screwed up though. So I just think it’s just silly of me or anyone to try to say to him ‘No you can’t,’ you know. It’s his decision. It’s none of our business to interfere in that. Even when it comes into our business. You still can’t really say much. Except- unless you said, ‘look I don’t like it John,’”

“Have you done that already?” Michael asked. 

“Well I told him I didn’t like writing songs with him and Yoko,” Paul said. It was true. He had asked John to stop bringing Yoko when they wrote together. It was just that it was like he wasn’t speaking to the real John. It was like Yoko was talking through him. She’d just sit silently in the corner, staring at them - it put Paul on edge.

Michael seemed to get the idea that there was nothing Paul could do, and walked away muttering to himself. 

Paul sat there for 5 minutes, just breathing. Once he was satisfied that he was in control of his emotions again, he decided to get up and look for the others. There was probably an argument going on somewhere that needed breaking up. 

***

Paul was writing some lyrics on his own in the corner when the first Bad Thing happened. George had been showing John the song he was working on while Paul stayed out of it for the time being. He knew an argument was coming but he didn’t have enough energy to get involved. He had another headache so he decided he’d only only half listen in.

“Is that the end of it?” John asked. 

“Yeah it’s only that long.”

“We’ll use it for a commercial,” John laughed. George didn’t. “So uhhh, yeah it’s fine. And what do we do about it? Sounds so hard to do, ya know.”

“No it’s - no,” George stuttered. He glanced over at Paul helplessly. 

“I mean for you,” John started singing in a high pitched voice obviously meant to mimic him, “‘I me mine.’ All that singing, you sure you can do it?”

John was in a foul mood then. He was being fucking brutal towards Georgie. Ringo wasn’t in the room to keep the peace like he used to normally do. Paul sighed and stood up.

“Alright, fellas, shall we do George’s song then?” He tried. 

John muttered something under his breath and George turned his head sharply. They locked eyes for a few seconds with George’s piercing gaze steady on John. He looked full of hatred for the other man.

Ringo took that moment to walk in, thank God, and Paul repeated to him that they were doing George’s song. They took their places and were about to start when they realised John hadn’t gotten his guitar. Instead, he had walked over and was now looking down at Yoko, holding his hand out to her on the floor. She took it and together they walked to stand in the middle of Twickenham Studios - and they started dancing. 

The 3 remaining Beatles gawked. George looked furious. They looked at each other hesitantly before silently agreeing to just play. 

After they’d played for a bit, with Paul trying to ignore the twirling couple, the group disbanded. Paul went to finish off the lyrics he’d been doing before and started playing a bit on the piano, not noticing George standing stock still next to the instruments the rest had walked away from. He started muttering something. 

“I think I’ll be-“

“What?” John was quick to ask. 

“I’ll be leaving the band now.” 

It was said so calmly that Paul nearly didn’t think anything of it. It was only when his brain caught up with the words George had so easily said that he sharply turned round. Ringo did the same. They both stared at George before John, quick as ever, replied. 

“When?”

“Now.”

That was the real start of the end of the Beatles, Paul decided. 

No one had taken it that far. To actually leave. Well, Ringo had done it on the White Album but that had been a misunderstanding. He had felt left out, gone on holiday, and when they had asked him to come back, flowers had been decorated all over his drums. 

Paul felt that this time would be different. There wasn’t going be any flowers this time.

***

It seriously looked like George wasn’t coming back, and that nothing Paul did would change his mind. He knew he was partly to blame, and so was John. It was always them against poor Georgie. Even now, when the famous song writing duo weren’t even writing songs together, they were still a team in a way. At least, that’s what George Martin had told him quietly. Paul didn’t think John would have the same views, now he had Yoko. 

John and Paul had talked about it a few days after with the others; about what they were going to do without George. Paul was worried they wouldn’t have a guitar player for the live show they were supposed to do in a few weeks and was thinking on how to get George back. 

“But it’s not that easy, Paul. Cause it’s a festering wound. And yesterday we allowed it to go even deeper and we didn’t give him any bandages, ya know? I’m just trying to ask do I want him back Paul?” John said. 

Paul looked over at him quickly. What did John mean he might not want him back? George was a part of the Beatles. John not wanting him back was- was going to break the Beatles up. It hit Paul hard then. This could actually be a reality: they were slowly growing apart as the hatred between them grew. Soon there really would be no Beatles, and without the group -

He started panicking internally. 

“You don’t mean that John. Of course you want him back. This is just a small argument that’s gonna blow over, yeah? It’ll be fine.” Paul tried to reason. 

It sounded like he was just trying to convince himself. And it looked like John had heard it as that too, as he gave Paul a pitying smile. 

“Sure, Paul. It’ll be fine.” He said in a comforting voice. It didn’t help Paul’s doubt one bit. 

Linda noticed his internal breakdown and grabbed his hand, lightly stroking it. John glanced down at the action before quickly turning away. 

“Let’s just try and call him?” Paul asked quietly.

Linda nodded next to him and Neil picked up the phone. After only a few seconds, he put it down and turned to face them.

“It’s permanently engaged.”

“What?” 

“Send a telegram,” Ringo piped up. He’d probably been hit the hardest by George leaving because they’d been much closer recently. Paul guessed it was because George never felt comfortable around him and John anymore. 

“Yeah, yeah, ok,” Neil replied. He got out a pen and started writing.

Paul just put his head on Linda’s shoulder. He was getting another headache again. Martha bumped her nose into his hand and he lightly stroked her. He let his mind go numb to the rest of the conversation as the others thought of ways to persuade George to come back. He might as well stay suspended here in this moment forever - they couldn’t do anything without their guitar player anyway.

***

George did eventually come back. Paul and Ringo had welcomed him with a hug, and John had nodded politely. That was as much as an apology George was going to get. And he knew that. And so they carried on. 

***

When George got back in the studio, the crew had been preparing to film Paul’s song Long and Winding Road which he had written the year before on his farm.

They’d set it up so Paul was on the piano, where he would be looking into the camera, and the rest of the band were placed around him. This song meant a lot to Paul emotionally and he got himself prepared to sing it.

It was something he’d written when he had been a bit flipped out. It was a sad song because it was all about the unattainable; the door you never quite reach. It was a road that you never get to the end of. At the time he’d been really down about the Beatles - he’d had his first inkling that they were coming to an end and it had completely threw him. The song seemed to echo exactly what he was feeling now, a few months on. He was on the road - his life, this crazy life - and he’d been going for years and years, too long, and yet he still couldn’t get it to end. He just wanted it to stop.

When the cameras were rolling he tried to display all the emotion he was feeling and had been feeling for the past few months. How every day it seemed harder and harder to get out of bed. How each day lasted longer and longer. 

How it never seemed to end.

***

Paul’s dreams were more like nightmares. He supposed the drink and the pent up emotion were the cause of it, and it lead him to be overtired and droopy all day. John had been right when he’d said Paul wasn’t getting enough sleep - even when he did get to sleep, it was only because he was dead on his feet. His troubling thoughts kept him up till late at night until he’d normally call Linda, his one life line. She’d talk him out of whatever state he was in, and made sure he was fine to go to sleep. He knew if he didn’t have her he wouldn’t be as sane as he was now.

His dreams were more like nightmares - until one night.

He’d been paranoid and anxious and once again had only dropped off when he was dead beat. But in his dream, this time, he saw *mum*. His beautiful mother standing before him in his time of absolute need. 

She began muttering something that he didn’t pick up, until suddenly the words became crystal clear:

“It’s going to be OK, just let it be.” 

It resonated in his soul, but his sweet dream felt like it only lasted a second.

He was then suddenly awake, his mother’s words of absolution echoing in his mind as he stumbled downstairs to the piano and transferred the positive message into song.

***

It was a few days later when Paul had had some inspiration that was to do with him and Linda’s relationship. She’d been his rock during his worst times, which he noticed were starting to become more frequent, and he thought she deserved to have something that meant her important presence in his life would be known and stay preserved in the universe forever. The only thing he could think of that would do this was of course - a song.

So that day, Paul stood on the steps outside his house, with his cats somewhere around and Martha lying at his feet, and his guitar resting on his lap as he waited for Linda to arrive. When she did, Paul waited for her to notice him as she walked up to his front door. When she did he quickly stood up.

“Surprise,” he awkwardly said. She smiled and laughed a little.

He quickly started playing before she could say anything as he didn’t want to lose his nerve. He didn’t look up until the end and it was only then that he saw she was actually taking pictures of him. 

“Hey, stop!” he rushed down the few steps giddily, and carefully took the camera from her so she couldn’t hide behind it. He then got to see she was smiling up at him, with a blush on her cheeks.

“Did ya like it, then?” he asked quietly.

“It’s beautiful. Who’s it for?” 

“Wha- Lin, it’s for you. Who did you think it was - oh! You’re teasing,” he said. She started giggling and he couldn’t help but join in.

“I love it Paulie. You wrote it just for me?” She placed her hands in his hair and started stroking through it.

“Yeah. S’about all our little adventures, ya know? Getting lost with you,” his eyes closed at the same time hers did and they kissed lightly. Paul put his hands on her waist and brought her closer to him. “You’ve done so much for me, Lin. You’re way too good for me. So I wrote it for you and was going to ask the lads if I can put it on the album.”

She nodded her head slightly and hummed.

“That’s fine. And Paul - I’m not too good for you. We’re both just right for each other.”

He smiled slightly and broke away from her. He then took her hand and pulled her gently into the house with him. 

***

Paul got the approval from his band mates to have the song on the album and they practised it the next day. He was talking them through it, Ringo on the drums, of course, George on the side and him and John standing next to the same mic. Yoko was, for once, not right next to John and had decided to sit nearer to the other two. Once they’d all got the chords right, they ran through it again with Paul singing.

“Am I singing this or what?” John suddenly asked. Paul glanced at him, surprised. He didn’t think this was going to turn into another argument - it kind of just looked like John was maybe hurt? 

“I don’t know, really. You have to remember the words,” he replied.

“Yes I’ve got em here.”

“Well learn em.”

John nodded in agreement and asked to go through it again, this time the both of them singing. Paul nodded and they continued until George got fed up and asked to do a different one.

For the rest of the day, John didn’t really talk to him. There weren’t even many arguments today, but Paul still felt down. The days were feeling longer, and all he wanted to do anymore was just get back into bed. 

It wasn’t until later, when Paul was packing up his things to head home, that John approached him alone.

“Is it about me?” 

“What?” Paul had no idea what he was talking about. He just wanted to go home and sleep and didn’t have enough energy to pay attention to where this was going. 

“Your new song? ‘You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead’. It’s about us, right?” He had the lyrics in his hand, and Paul noticed he’d underlined that part. 

“What? No - it’s about Linda and I,” Paul replied. John stared at him for a few seconds before physically backing away. 

“Oh. Right. Obviously,” he stuttered. Paul suddenly realised how embarrassed John looked and realised he probably could have handled that better. 

“I mean, songs have different levels - they can mean loads of different things, right? You’re in there just-“

“John. Come on,” Yoko slinked up quietly. Thank god she’d stopped him rambling, though.

They both ended up just staring at each other, both severely embarrassed, until Yoko tugged on John’s arm and they walked off together. Paul was left standing dumbly as he tried to process the conversation he just had. 

Maybe the song was about John in a way? He hadn’t been thinking about him at the time but he guessed it just came through in it. The fact that John had picked up on it proved that. 

In the end, he gave up trying to analyse it. Paul just finished packing up and finally got his wish of going home

***

A few days after, John and Paul were working together on their songs. Luckily, Yoko had either taken the hint that Paul didn’t want her there herself, or John had had to explain to her that Paul was uncomfortable with her being around when they were writing like this. 

He’d been in the middle of going through the tracks they had so far for the album when he had a sort of epiphany. 

“...Have to Get Back. We’re on our way home,” Paul muttered. John looked over curiously. 

“Yes?”

“There’s a story. And there’s another one: Don’t Let Me Down. Oh Darling, I’ll never let you down...” he trailed off as he sat stunned. 

“Yeah it’s like you and me are lovers,” John was quick to reply. 

Paul huffed a laugh as he tried to take in his chance discovery. Maybe all the songs were linked in some way then? Maybe the songs all have different levels to them possibly because the band was on the same wave length themselves? 

It was amazing either way. 

***

Everyone had finally decided to move out of Twickenham Studios and back to Abbey Road. They’d all decided Twickenham had been big, cold and lonely and so Paul was happy with the change to a more comfortable environment. 

Everyone else seemed more cheerful too. They were playing more music all together, and it felt more intimate in a smaller room. Sometimes claustrophobic, but that was probably just Paul projecting.

He’d sat down with Robert Fraser in the corner while everyone chatted round in the music booth. Robert was a good friend who was also an art dealer. He was always a calm and an easy guy to talk to and Paul was comfortable hanging around with him. 

“So what do you think you lot are going to do after this? Another album maybe? You’ve all got so many songs between you that you could probably do two more,” Robert asked.

“Yeah, I think the guys want to do another one. But. See we’ve done a lot of Beatles now. We’ve had a lot of Beatles, you know. And we’ve. You know, we’ve got a lot out of the Beatles,” Paul replied.

Robert hummed in agreement. There was a small silence as both men took in the weight of the words he’d said until Robert tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“You know you look like a chimney sweep?” 

Paul laughed, glancing down. He blushed slightly as he remembered his lack of maintenance to his hair.

“No really- you look like D.H. Lawrence.”

They began giggling as Robert started moving his hair around while Paul tried to get away. They were interrupted however when a shadow loomed above them. Paul looked up to see John who was peering at Robert with an intense gaze. It lasted only a few seconds before John abruptly announced he was going home. He took Yoko’s hand and walked out without saying goodbye to anyone, and never so much as glancing at Paul. 

Paul sighed. He realised he probably should be heading back too as Linda was supposed to be coming over to his house with Heather for tea and he had yet to decide what he was going to make. He didn’t even know if he had food in his kitchen - he might need to pop to the shops for a quick stock up. 

He groaned as he got up, stretched to touch the ceiling, then said his goodbyes and left just after John. 

***

The end of the Let It Be project was a live performance on Apple’s rooftop. There had been many discussions on what the band would do instead of their live performance on TV, but somehow, and Paul for the life of him couldn’t remember who suggested it, they’d landed on the roof idea. And for some reason stuck with it. 

Paul remembered Ringo and possibly John agreeing to it. He knew George had been against it completely but they’d swayed him eventually. Paul was now regretting that decision with a passion. 

It was January. It was extremely cold. And he had no coat. 

He tried dancing around a bit to warm up which meant John started sending him amused glances that Paul laughed at in return. If he was being honest though, it was quite refreshing up on the roof. The only thing he couldn’t feel were his fingers, as they’d gone numb on the metal strings of his bass, but his body was alive with shivers. After feeling numb to the world so many times recently it was exciting to just feel something! 

And his band mates seemed to agree; John kept making weird noises into the microphone, forgetting and making up words, George was laughing at their antics and Ringo was smiling at the back, keeping the beat as always. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Paul knew this was never going to happen again. The police had already clocked them and were waiting for them to get off after their last song. They hadn’t performed properly together since 1965 so he knew this was a rare occasion - even if they couldn’t hear or see their audience it was still like doing one of their old sets on stage. He told himself to enjoy every minute of it, to try and take in every detail, because he knew this feeling of freedom and happiness wouldn’t last once he stepped off this short-lived stage to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any criticism in the comments is welcome! Anything you want to see, I’ll try and fit it in somewhere? Ahhh I hope this isn’t shit - I’ve never done this before haha :)


	4. These Wings Were Made To Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul’s daily stress is coming to an end - he’d decided enough is enough. He’s going to be the first one to leave instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore my notes from yesterday - when I’ve started something it looks like I have to finish it so here ya go. The last chapter:

It was clear to everyone that Apple’s finances needed to be addressed urgently. Paul wanted his father-in-law Lee Eastman to help them out but the other Beatles objected. John had convinced the others to use Allen Klein who he had appointed his personal advisor on the spot after one meeting. Paul got that they felt that Lee would put his interests ahead of the rest of the group, but he tried to reason with them that this was not the case. They didn’t listen.

***

They didn’t release Let It Be. It needed editing and Michael wanted the Album and Film released at the same time. So, they decided to record an album to release before Let It Be. 

Paul was thrilled with this. They were in Abbey Road still which meant Paul could feel his fingers. John was game, which surprised Paul, but he was decidedly motivated and keen to carry on. George had become easier around him too, starting to hang out with him more, and they were acting like before the group’s problems. Ringo was also in high spirits. He was back to his happy self, just like he should be, and was smiling and laughing a lot more now. Paul was glad to see his friend being a lot freer in the studio, adding to songs like Carry That Weight where they all joined in shouting the chorus. They’d all decided to stop fighting and get on with each other and it was a lot of fun. 

***

They’d been out ‘getting lost’ as Linda liked to put it. Martha had been running around and Heather was staying with someone else for the day. Paul and Linda had held hands as they meandered across a plain in the middle of nowhere. It was then that Paul asked the biggest question of his life in the most underwhelming way. 

“Marry me? Just the Two of Us, always?”

Looking back on it he could have done something more extraordinary. But him and Linda weren’t extraordinary people. She’d said she’d liked it how it was and loving him was the most important part anyway. And she did. 

They’d had a fight the night before which put Paul’s nerves on edge, but eventually it all worked out. It had been a very small affair. Well, inside. They’d had Mal and Mike come along. Outside was pandemonium: girls crying, police everywhere and crowds of reporters. But it didn’t stop Paul’s joy. They’d brought Heather and all their animals, of course. And the day had been so special, Paul was sure he’d never forget it.

***

The Abbey Road album carried on: it was unstoppable. Paul and George Martin were creating a Medley for every song that they could think of that they’d written in the past, and included some new ones too. Paul could tell Martin was loving having the Beatles back in the studio.

The album kind of flew by Paul in a weird dream. Before he knew it he’d sang the last harmonies on Because and that was it. Over. ‘Holiday Time’ as John jokingly called it. Paul had a feeling this would be the longest ‘holiday’ yet. 

How fitting that the last song was called The End. 

***

Linda gave birth and Mary was born on the 28th. 

Paul had been there for the birth and the only word he could have used to describe it would be magical. She was beautiful. 

Paul put aside all his issues for his little bundle of joy. He was up at all times, day and night, feeding the pets, playing with Heather, and stopping Mary from crying. He tried to be the best dad and always tried to keep Linda off her feet and make sure she rested enough. It was tiring but he loved it. Him and Linda were their own little family and it was incredible.

***

It wasn’t until late September that Paul’s life started really falling apart. 

The next Bad Thing happened when he was called in to a board meeting with everyone present. John was there with Klein, of course. Paul swore he was the most sketchiest person he’d ever met, and yet all his band mates seemed to love him. As long as the guy sweet talked them enough they were all but happy to do anything the he asked. Linda had said she knew the guy was going to be trouble the first time she’d heard of him - never trust a business man from New Jersey. 

When Paul walked in he saw they were all huddled together over a table. They looked up when Paul made his presence known and he saw the reluctance on their faces. He sat down heavily in a chair. 

Paul knew this was it. This was the end, wasn’t it? He’d been so set against it happening, he’d talked himself into thinking it was never going to occur. Him not accepting it before was going to make this so much harder. He started sweating and looking around nervously. The silence carried on as Paul felt his thoughts swirl through his head. This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t happening. They were just going to go back in the studio and make another album and it was all going to be fine.

“I want a divorce.”

Of course that’s how John would phrase it. Paul’s gaze narrowed down to him. He saw the pitying but determined look on Johns face as he waited smugly for his reaction. Paul could tell they were all looking at him anxiously.

He got up and left the room and didn’t look back. 

The tears were starting to come through before he’d even left the building. He felt someone’s hand on his arm and tried to wrench it away but they were strong and insistent. Paul looked up and saw the kind eyes of Mal Evans. Mal smiled sadly and Paul just let the tears flow as he silently looked back. 

He was guided out into his car and driven home in silence except for his sniffles.

Just before he got out of the car to go break the news to Lin, Mal pulled him into the warmest, most comforting hug that Paul definitely needed. He hugged back as hard as he could and they said goodbye to each other before Paul slowly walked up to his house in a daze. 

Linda was there with her arms held out, saying she’d already heard the news. He fell into them gladly. 

***

Abbey Road came out a few days after but Paul had not stuck around to see the reaction of the public; he and Linda had decided to escape the madness and head up to Scotland for a brief respite.

It was then that Paul started having a tough time. It was a period of depression and confusion; he’d started drinking heavily again, not getting out of bed and cutting himself off from the outside world. His farm was in the middle of nowhere so there was no signal for phones, no postal service and no TV. He didn’t have any contact with anyone related to anything Beatles and he was happy about it. 

His farm being a dump didn’t help matters much. It had been a cheap snatch, but it came with a price. The house was old and run down, with only two bedrooms and a small kitchen that he had yet to furnish properly. Outside, there was scrap lying around with bits of wood, an empty caravan and old stone walls surrounding them.

Poor Linda had tried to get him out of his funk for ages but he was stuck. She suggested he let it out in some form of music and he agreed hesitantly with no hopes of producing anything good. She said she didn’t care what he did, as long as it got him back on his feet. 

So that’s what he tried to do. He played music, went for long walks out on his land with Martha, and looked after their daughters while maintaining his relationship with Linda.

At some point, however, the press found him. He didn’t know how: he’d tried to make sure the property had an anonymous name attached to it. But while he had been out romping around, Martha had suddenly started barking, indicating there was someone around. 

He could see them in the distance, with their camera out, taping, and sighed inwardly. He just wanted to be left alone for once. He’d already given so much to the press over the last ten years, that now he just wanted to switch off.

He stomped over in his wellies, Martha at his heels. When he got over to them he told them to get off his land, and tried escorting them off. Paul was pissed off already, and yet one of them had the gall to turn the camera over to him.

“Hey, and don’t try filming it. Or you might get some trouble,” he pointed his finger at them aggressively and moved the camera out of his face.

After he was sure they were gone, he walked back down to his house, thinking he was done with them. 

Instead, a few days later, he had to give them an interview.

They wanted to talk about how he was supposedly fucking dead, and what he was doing up here when the Beatles were down there. Apparently his long silence had been an indicator to start rumours that the Beatles were more. Yet when he replied that the Beatles thing was over, they seemed to overlook the statement. Finally, he let them take some pictures to satisfy them and eventually they disappeared, leaving Paul in his anger and solitude.

***

Thinking his life couldn’t get any worse, he went back down to London, and found he had been sent a pre-release acetate of his song Long and Winding Road. When he played it he realised they had completely changed it to have orchestral bits, high volumes of strings and a fucking harp at the end of the song. His song, that meant so much to him, had been screwed up so badly he hardly recognised it. No one had even asked him what he thought. Paul couldn’t believe it:

He was furious.

The record had come with a note from Klein saying he had thought the changes were *necessary*. It made Paul realise that he really wasn’t in control anymore - Klein had taken over completely. 

He sent a letter to the guy demanding him never to do it again and he’d been so angry when he’d written it, that the pen had gone through the paper slightly when he’d stabbed his name in. 

***

He’d written so many songs up in Scotland that Linda had suggested he make an album out of it. He agreed, thinking it had only been a little hobby while he was feeling down and that it wouldn’t amount to much.

He got it set up so that his album would come out around April time, thinking nothing of it. Everyone else seemed to have an opinion though.

The cowards had sent Ringo, lovely, fair Ringo, to come round his house and ask him to change his release date.

He’d sent Ringo off, after he’d calmly asked him to consider it. Paul knew they were only doing it because they thought Paul would better their album in sales, which meant they’d get less money. 

But Paul wasn’t in the right state of mind for calm, rational explaining and started shouting abuse.

“Well if it is such a fucking nuisance, maybe they should all come round my ‘ouse and ask me themselves.”

The date had been set permanently anyway.

Paul’s resisted attempts only estranged him further from his band mates. The conflict had left him so annoyed and upset he’d decided enough was enough.

If John wanted a divorce he was going to get a fucking divorce.

He released a self-interview which announced that the Beatles were breaking up on the 10th of April, a week before his own solo album came out.

***

After let it Be was aired Paul decided to send John a letter asking to be released from the Beatles contract - he’d had enough. All his hopeless optimism had been for nothing and the Beatles were now on their way out for definite.

He ended it by pleading that they let each other out of the trap.

While he waited restlessly, he tried to stop thinking about the whole situation. Paul found that playing around with his daughters and having fun with Linda meant he forgot about anything bad that was happening. He made more music, this time with Linda helping, which he found was completely different to working with John but nevertheless still fun. He’d never worked with a woman’s voice harmonising with his own before and he thought it sounded so beautiful he tried to get it into every song.

John replied eventually with a photograph of himself and Yoko with a balloon coming out of his mouth, in which he had written “how and why?” It gave Paul a sense of relief that this was finally happening. He spoke to Linda’s dad on what he would have to do legally, and replied to John quickly.

“How, by signing a paper that says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why, because there is no partnership.”

***

Paul decided he would arrange to get a lawsuit. It was the only thing he, Linda and Lee could think of that would disband the group. He did it New Years Eve, thinking darkly that it would be a great way to start the decade.

Emotionally, it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. The group had all been wary around each other with lawyers whispering in their ears, but somehow Paul had found himself alone with John. It was only a few seconds and a very short conversation, but they hadn’t spoken much in private since Paul had left for Scotland, apart from their letters, and he was glad to finally see him properly.

“Hi,” John said.

“Hi.”

“So the bubble still hasn’t burst?” John asked. Paul was confused.

“What? Of course the bubble has burst. Everywhere but on paper: that’s the only place we’re tied down now, John.”

He nodded. 

“You can finally stop putting Lennon on all your records now.”

“Yep.” 

He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t really want to break the partnership - they’d been together so long - but Paul was just glad that he was going to be free of this hell.

***

The dissolution hearing for the break-up of The Beatles’ partnership took place in February at the High Court of London. 

Paul had so many examples for why the band should finally break up, but the main reason he gave for wishing to leave The Beatles was that Klein’s company had arranged for The Long And Winding Road to be altered without him being asked. He was still pissed off about that.

Paul’s attempt hadn’t been for nothing in the end, thank god, and he won a preliminary motion against Klein and the other 3.

Not only that, but Paul also got a #1 with Another Day - it looked like maybe his solo career could be a success.

***

With Paul free, and the Beatles no more, he spent more time with his family.

He was so much happier now he was away from the studio - there was no more arguments (unless Linda had a go at him for not changing Mary’s nappy correctly; he admitted he wasn’t very good at that stuff), he was more playful at home now Linda had moved in permanently and he also tried teaching Heather piano. He learned to cook from Linda, so that he wasn’t always making his usual beans on toast with mashed potato on the side, with a bit of tomato sauce - she’d gagged over it the first time she’d seen it. He was just happier. He wasn’t getting sick every day from negative feelings, he’d stopped drinking, and he went out walking even more to try and clear his mind when it got bad.

And it did get bad sometimes... sometimes it did happen that one day he’d be feeling lousy. And he’d pick up a newspaper that would be doing a big sort of bummer on him. And it didn’t help.

But that was only 5% of the time. The rest of the time was alright, Paul decided. He just didn’t look at them.

Paul was content and happy and things were moving up.

***

In May, Paul and Linda released their new album RAM. Even if the press hadn’t responded well, the public seemed to have sung its praises and they were very proud of their little music baby.

A few months later, they had another, even more precious baby.

He’d been sitting with Linda at the time, talking her through the contractions and praying for the birth to go well, when the name had come to him.

Him and Linda had been talking about having a new band together, changing it up a bit, but they’d been stuck on a name. They wanted it to represent them taking off in the music industry and to show everyone they were improving. They wanted something to show their freedom and spirituality.

They decided to name their new band “Wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. So. I’ve never done this before. So my writing for this has been a bit all over the place. I didn’t expect to carry this on after chapter 1 but it just kinda happened and I’m so OCD with dates and when stuff happened that we got to here?? Idek. Anyway what did you guys think of the first attempt? Would you wanna see more? Or should I go back to just reading all of your AMAZING fics which is what inspired me in the first place? 
> 
> Anyways, thanks everyone who supported in the comments - it means a lot to see people enjoyed my little word vomit 😁

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Beatles and wanted to try and write more on them so if anyone has anything they want to see put your ideas in the comments and I might have a go? Thanks so much for reading XxX


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